


The Start

by profoundlypleasantruins



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:02:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profoundlypleasantruins/pseuds/profoundlypleasantruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random Modern AU cause the world needs more Lexa in a uniform and Clarke with a dirty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @ profoundlypleasantruins.tumblr.com

"Jeez Clarke, don’t have an aneurysm.” Octavia smirked from the passenger seat. Clarke swore a litany of curse words under her breath.  
  
“I wasn’t even going that fast, this fucking road should not be only 35 goddamn miles per hour.” Clarke glanced in the rear view mirror at the flashing red and blue lights of the cop car behind her.  
  
Octavia rolled her eyes, popping open the glove box which explodes in a flurry of paper scraps, napkins, cards and various colored pencils. “Where’s your registration?”  
  
Clarke was too focused on the uniformed woman getting out of the vehicle to respond with anything more than a quiet, “Shit. Why does she have to be hot?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing, did you find the registration?”  
  
The officer strode up next to the car, bending down slightly to look in.  
  
“Afternoon l – Octavia?”  
  
“Oh my god, Lexa?!” Octavia grins past a slightly puzzled Clarke. “Well aren’t you looking good in that uniform?” She glances at Clarke. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”  
  
Clarke tries not to stare, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wasn’t particularly remarkable. Her uniform was crisp, if a little worn, faded. She noticed the tan skin on her arms where it had failed to protect her from the sun. Her shoulders leaned slightly forward, her head down, eyes up. Nope, nothing remarkable, except. Except the color of her eyes. Her eyes were the color of moss in fantasy paintings. Her eyes were the color of children’s green crayons but Crayola didn’t have shit on this girl. Green. Fresh paint. Unforgiving. Open. Guarded. And alive.  
  
Octavia’s elbow dug into her ribs. “Uh, Clarke?”  
  
“Sorry, what?” Clarke’s face flushes as she focuses and Lexa repeats herself.  
  
“Your license? Registration and insurance?”  
  
“Right, yeah, of course.” Clarke digs her license out of her wallet as Octavia hands over the other paperwork with a big, shit eating grin on her face. Lexa holds Clarke’s gaze for a moment before looking down at the papers. Clarke drops her eyes to the nametape under the badge on Lexa’s chest. L. WOODS.  
  
“Clarke Griffin.” Lexa reads, glancing down at the license then back at Clarke. Clarke feels her chest tightening under the steady gaze and she couldn’t help but think, as green eyes locked with hers, that she wouldn’t mind so much if Lexa saved her. If she got into a car accident or something, scared, with the smell of burnt rubber and liquid pennies running through her senses – that if Lexa looked down into the broken window, that she would see her. All of her. Broken insides matching broken outsides, and save her.  
  
“What kind of name is Clarke for a girl anyway?”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
Lexa gave a shrug. “Clarke? Reminds me of Clark Kent. Who was most decidedly not a cute blonde girl with an affinity for driving fast.”  
  
Clarke’s brow furrowed as she tried to decide if she was being insulted or complimented.  
  
“Fuck off, I like my name.”  
  
Lexa raises her eyebrows at Clarke’s bluntness as Octavia butts in.  
  
“She clearly has no respect for the law. Or authority. You should probably just arrest her.” Clarke rolls her eyes, pushing Octavia away. Lexa ignores her, still focused on Clarke.  
  
“Apologies, Clarke Griffin. I did not mean it like that.” Clarke’s features soften as Lexa hands back the paperwork. “Please don’t speed. I would hate to see you get into an accident.” Lexa turns and begins walking back to her car.  
  
“Game tomorrow at seven, Woods!” Octavia shouts at her retreating form.  
  
Clarke gives the registration and insurance back to Octavia as she puts her car back in drive.  
  
“What the hell? Since when do you know any cops?”  
  
“Just one, she’s on my soccer team. Didn’t know you had a thing for a woman in uniform, Clarke.” Octavia teases.  
  
“Uh did you see her? Are cops even allowed to be that attractive?” Clarke huffs. All she can think of is the way Lexa said her name, playing it again in her mind. _Clarke Griffin_.  
  
“Calm yourself princess. You know, I could set you guys up-”  
  
Clarke laughs. “I’m not dating some asshole cop.”  
  
“Who says you have to date her Clarke?”  
  
Clarke doesn’t answer, forcing herself to focus on the road and not the police car growing smaller in her rear view mirror.

 

\---

 

“You don’t have to bust down the door like you’re doin’ a drug raid.”

Lexa ignored Anya’s voice from the kitchen, booted foot slamming the front door shut behind her. Readjusting the jacket, duty belt and duffel in her arms, she trudged down the hallway to dump her stuff on the floor of the living room and collapse onto the worn, sagging couch. She lets out a sigh of relief as Anya’s face pops over the back of the couch.

“Hungry, sunshine?”

Lexa merely nods, too tired to form a response, rubbing her eyes.

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. I’m heading over to Gus’s place for practice. Don’t forget about our show on Saturday.”

“Right. Saturday. I’ll be there.”

Anya grabs her guitar case and heads out and Lexa relaxes in the blessed silence that accompanies her roommate’s exit, the couch’s cushions seeming to slowly drain the tension out of her muscles. Just a few minutes of sleep, just to recover – suddenly her phone beeps.

_New message – O._

Shit. The game. She totally forgot.

**O. (19:04):** _where the hell r u?_

**Lexa (19:05):** _I’m sorry, I had to work another 12, I won’t be able to make it._

**O.(19:05):** _thx 4 the heads up, asshole. get some rest._

Lexa’s thumbs hover over the screen as she debates asking about Clarke Griffin but she decides against it and tosses her phone on the table instead.

A door slam yanks her out of her sleep and Lexa half leaps off the couch, groping for her pistol before promptly tripping over her boots and onto the floor. A light comes on and Lexa looks up to see Anya standing there looking far too smug.

“What time is it?” She mutters, squinting against the sudden brightness.

“Like 5.” Anya sets her guitar case down against the wall, “AM that is.”  
  
Lexa groans, rubbing her face as Anya moves into the kitchen.  
  
“Have you been out here all night? Jesus, couldn’t even make it to your own bed.”  
  
“I could say the same to you. Don’t you have work?”

She hears Anya put on coffee, silently thanking her.

“That’s why I’m here, came back to change before my shift.”  
  
Lexa pushes herself up, kicking her boots out of the way, stomach growling as she makes her way to the fridge.  
  
“By the way, this is for you. From Gus.” Anya taps an envelope on the counter as Lexa stuffs a slice of cold pizza in her mouth.  
  
“Wha is it?” Lexa asks around a mouthful of food. Anya scowls.  
  
“First off, rude. Second, really? Pizza for breakfast?

Lexa shrugs, taking another bite. “Breakfast of champions.”  
  
Anya shakes her head, grabbing mugs out of a cupboard. “He says you should take better care of yourself. Something about relaxing or whatever. It’s for that spa down the street.”  
  
Lexa picks up the envelope. Inside is a gift card for a deep tissue massage. Anya hands her a cup of coffee.  
  
“Mmm, you’re the best.”  
  
“I know. You have the day off right?”  
  
Lexa nods, reaching for another slice of pizza.

“Good, you’re gonna kill yourself working so many hours.”  
  
“Someone’s gotta pay the bills around here.”  
  
“Like I don’t pay my share.”  
  
Lexa raises a brow over her cup of coffee.  
  
“Usually.” Anya mutters, making her way down the hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more fluff, a little more flirting. Soccer, shooting and shots.
> 
> also: Clarke as a mob boss is an image you never knew you needed til now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't expect anyone to actually read this, let alone enjoy it so thanks guys
> 
> tell me what you liked, didn't like or just come talk shop @ profoundlypleasantruins.tumblr.com

Another slow day at work meant Clarke could get some studying done which of course meant she spent that time idly drawing instead. She doesn't look up from her sketch as the bell on the door rings, announcing someone entering the spa.

“Hello Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke’s eyes shoot up from her sketchpad.  It takes her a second to recognize Lexa not in uniform.  
  
“I - hi. Uh, officer.” She replies, exaggerating the last word.  
  
“Don’t call me that. It’s Lexa.”  
  
Clarke clears her throat, nonchalantly sliding the sketch she’d been doing of a certain officer of the law under the other papers on the desk.  
  
“You aren’t here to give me a parking ticket or something are you?”  
  
“Do I look like I am on duty?” Lexa gestures at the plainclothes she’s wearing. Clarke’s eyes glance down and back up to take her in, lingering on her arm where black lines of a tattoo peek out from the edge of her t-shirt.  
  
“You could be undercover.”  
  
“Could be. Massage parlors are notorious for being fronts and you definitely fit the image of a mob boss.” Lexa says matter-of-factly.  
  
Clarke narrows her eyes. “Are you always this snarky?”  
  
“Are you always this welcoming to customers?”  
  
“Only the ones that pull me over and make fun of my name.”  
  
“I didn’t give you a ticket did I?”  
  
Clarke purses her lips; she had a point.  
  
“Fair enough. So what are you here for then?”  
  
“A massage.” Lexa states as she slides over the gift card Gus had given her. Clarke groans inwardly, of all the spas she could have gone to it had to be the one Clarke worked at.  
  
“I uh…guess we can…schedule you for one….” Damn but if Monroe had not just started a hot stone massage with their one customer all afternoon she could have pawned Lexa off on her.  
  
Lexa pointedly looks around the empty spa. “You are very busy I see.”  
  
Clarke shifts in her seat hoping her uneasiness wasn’t obvious.  
  
“Just fill out the waiver, and I’ll get the room – ” Clarke is interrupted by Lexa’s phone going off. Lexa glances down, frowning at the caller ID.  
  
“Excuse me.” She says before stepping away from the front desk, phone pressed to her ear. “Yes Indra?” Clarke, glad for the momentary respite, takes a deep breath, focusing on anything but Lexa with her back to her, murmuring into the phone.  
  
It’s not long before she turns back towards Clarke, slipping her phone back into her pocket with a sigh.  
  
“Duty calls?” Clarke taps her pencil against the desk.  
  
“Indeed. You and your crime ring are off the hook today Clarke Griffin.” Lexa gives a small smile before heading towards the door. Clarke shakes her head as Lexa ducks out of the spa. This was not good. Pretty girls with pretty words could only lead to trouble.

\--

  
“You ok Clarke? Seem a little off today.”  
  
“Yeah, just…stressed about that test tomorrow.”  
  
Clarke digs in her bag for her car keys as Monroe locks the door of the spa behind them.  
  
“I hear you, my asshole cat knocked a glass of water all over my notes. Study session?”  
  
“I would but I told Octavia I’d pick her and Lincoln up after her game tonight, sorry.”  
  
They made their way to the only two cars left in the parking lot.  
  
“No worries, I’ll see you in class.”

\--

  
It’s dark when Clarke gets to the field, the bright stadium lights spilling artificial light over the thin grass and rusty bleachers. Scattered cheers greet her as someone scores. Clarke takes a seat next to Raven who is spitting out sunflower seeds.  
  
“Who’s winning?”  
  
“O’s team. Bellamy’s pretty heated.”  
  
Clarke chuckles as the referee whistles a three minute warning. Bellamy is bellowing at his teammate to hurry up and throw the ball in.

Raven spits out a seed. “Octavia said you got pulled over yesterday.”  
  
Flustered, the player finally chucks it in and Bellamy darts around Lincoln to intercept it, dribbling down the field. Clarke sighs.

“I’m sure that’s not all she told you.”  
  
Raven grins, giving Clarke a playful nudge. “Yeah she said you got all hot and bothered by the cop.”

“What? I did not –“

“Hey I don’t blame you, she’s certainly not bad on the eyes.”  
  
Clarke frowns. “Wait, you met her?”  
  
“Yeah she’s here. On O’s team.” Raven spits out more seeds.  
  
“Riiiiight, course she is.” Clarke mutters, not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.  
  
Raven casts a sidelong glance at Clarke who’s keeping her face blank, suddenly very focused on the game. Bellamy and a teammate sprint down the field, maneuvering past opponents. One defender is the only one left between Bellamy and the goalie. Clarke’s brow furrows.  
  
“Is that Jasper?”  
  
Raven laughs, “Yeah he’s subbing for them. Poor guy.”  
  
Jasper’s lack of hand eye coordination is painfully apparent as Bellamy easily sweeps past him. Bellamy swings wide, angling in towards the corner of the goal, the goalie shadowing his movement. Clarke feels her breath catch when she sees it’s Lexa. Bellamy winds up for the shot, twisting his hips at the last second to send the ball in the opposite corner.  But Lexa is quick, leaping to swat the ball away, knocking it out of bounds. The ref whistles game over as Bellamy throws his hands in the air with a loud “C’mon!”.  
  
“Looks like I’ll be taking care of a sore loser tonight.” Raven comments.  
  
Clarke can’t help but smile as Octavia’s team huddles around Lexa in victory as the players make their way off the field. She also can’t help but study Lexa in her grass stained soccer jersey and the way her athletic shorts reveal perfectly sculpted quads and –  
  
“Next time, you’re subbing Clarke.” A sweaty Jasper plops down next to her on the bench, guzzling a water bottle.  “I’m not built for this. I don’t know why I let Octavia talk me into it.”  
  
Clarke is about to reply but is distracted(again) by Lexa walking towards her, a slight smile on her lips.  
  
“Hello again Clarke Griffin.”

Suddenly Lincoln is there, throwing an arm around Lexa, ruffling her hair playfully. “Nice save goalie!”

Bellamy trods up to dejectedly sit next to Raven. Octavia slides up next to him.

“Aw don’t look so angry big bro, you guys never stood a chance against us.”  
  
Bellamy shoves her off the bench, “Just felt like goin’ easy on ya this time.”

Octavia rolls her eyes, moving to stand next to Lincoln.  
  
“Celebratory drinks?” She proposes, glancing around the group of players. “The Bunker is like 3 blocks away.”

“I think that’s a no for us.” Raven says, using Bellamy’s shoulder to push herself up.

Octavia turns to Jasper who shakes his head.  
  
“Fine. Clarke you don’t get a choice. Lexa?”  
  
Lexa’s face is unreadable as she kicks at a clod of dirt. “I’ll pass.”  
  
Clarke tries not to look disappointed.  
  
“What? No, c’mon just one drink. Loosen up a bit.” Octavia presses with a sickeningly sweet smile and Lexa hesitates before conceding.  
   
“One drink.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“This is probably the shittiest dive bar in town.” Lincoln mutters as they grab a table, avoiding piles of discarded peanut shells on the floor.  
  
“Yeah but it’s _our_ shitty dive bar.” Octavia replies, throwing back a shot and handing Lincoln one.  
  
“And it looks like he’s about to beat your shitty score.” Lincoln nods at a man in front of an arcade game with a plastic shotgun nestled against his shoulder firing at zombies. Octavia scoffs.  
  
“No one can beat my score on Extreme Mega Zombie Apocalypse Shootout 6.”  
  
Octavia takes a long swig of her beer before making her way over to the arcade machines to prove her point.  
  
“Here we go.” Lincoln shakes his head, following her over.  
  
Clarke watches him go before turning to Lexa who is eyeing the scattered remains of peanut shells on the table as if they were about to jump up and challenge her. Her eyes shift from the table to the door, scanning the other patrons, and then back to the table. Clarke idly wondered if she ever dropped the constantly alert mentality that had so obviously been ingrained from – she could only guess – hours of training. Clarke steels herself, taking a drink.  
  
“You always been a goalie? I don’t remember O mentioning you before.”

A wry smile plays across Lexa’s face, breaking the mask. “Why would Octavia mention me?”  
  
Clarke backpedals. “I um – I mean, I just know pretty much everyone else on her team…” She shrugs, quickly taking another drink.  
  
“It’s just something my roommate recommended, when I moved here…to meet new people.” And by recommended she meant Anya threatened bodily dismemberment if Lexa didn’t get her brooding ass up off the couch and do something outside to take her mind off…things. People.  “So I signed up with the co-ed rec league, got put on Octavia’s team.” She shrugs. “I’m good with my hands, therefore goalie.”  
  
Clarke tries not to think about what else her hands might be good at. “When did you move out here?”  
  
“6 months ago, from Polis.”  
  
“Hm, Polis. Never been, heard it’s nice though.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Then why leave?”  
  
Lexa is staring at the bottle in her hand, absent mindedly working the label off, jaw clenching and unclenching.  
  
“I – work. I got transferred here.” She quickly changes the subject. “How long have you been a mob boss fronting as a masseuse?”  
  
Clarke laughs. “I wish I had mob boss money, would make med school a lot cheaper.”  
  
Lexa raises an eyebrow. “Med school?”  
  
“Yeah, orthopedic surgery is the plan.” Clarke says taking a drink as Octavia returns to the table.  
  
“Annnnd the reigning champion of zombie hunting returns.” Octavia slams her palms down on the table, scattering peanuts.  
  
“Glad to hear you’ve defended your honor, mighty warrior.”  
  
“Don’t be jealous Clarke.”  
  
Clarke rolls her eyes, tossing a shell at Octavia. "Jealous of your luck in an arcade game? That’s definitely it.”  
  
“Luck has nothing to do with it, it’s all skill baby. Something you wouldn’t know about."  
  
Lincoln leans on the table, fresh beer in hand. “We all know there’s only one way to settle this.” He says seriously, looking them each in the eye before taking a drink.  
  
Clarke downs the rest of her beer. “You’re right. Me and Lexa versus you two.”  
  
Lexa opens her mouth to protest but Octavia jumps in.  
  
“You’re on. Losers buy next round.”  
  
Lexa rolls her eyes but Clarke catches the small smile on her lips as they make their way over to the arcade corner. They pool their quarters together and Octavia and Lincoln pick up the plastic guns as the round begins.  Clarke leans in next to Lexa, the scent of grass and dirt and sweat not entirely unpleasant.  
  
“Quick confession. I am not a good shot, so I hope you are.”  
  
Lexa quickly turns to face her. “What? Why did you – ”  
  
Clarke shrugs. “I assumed your skill level would be more than enough.”  
  
“Ah. So you are just using me for my shooting skills.”  
  
Clarke gives a wicked grin. “I could use you for other things too.” Lexa’s mouth opens and closes but no words come out and she quickly turns away, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
“GAME OVER.”  
  
“That was quick.” Clarke quips, turning back towards Octavia.  
  
“Not our best round but you still won’t be able to beat it Griffin.” Octavia says smugly, handing the plastic gun to Clarke as Lexa and Lincoln trade places. Clarke mimes Lexa’s stance, squaring up to the screen, gun at the ready as the round begins. She barely has time to react to the zombies popping up before Lexa is already firing at them. For every one zombie Clarke manages to shoot, Lexa has downed five others. As their score increases, Octavia’s grin turns into a scowl and it isn’t long before her and Lincoln’s score is surpassed.  
  
“GAME OVER.”  
  
Clarke turns to Octavia, an innocent expression on her face.  
  
“You were saying?”  
  
“You barely did anything, Lexa did all of the shooting!” Octavia protests.  
  
“A win’s a win.” Lexa replies calmly as Lincoln fights a smile from behind Octavia.  
  
Octavia gets in close to Clarke's face. “I hope you know a rematch is in order. Just you and me, Griffin.” She growls.  
  
“I hope you know I’ll still kick your ass.”  
  
“Ever heard the phrase, talk shit get hit, Clarke?” Octavia cracks a smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”  
  
“I wish I could say the same O.” Clarke smiles sweetly.  
  
“Such a dick.” Octavia mutters, giving her a playful shove.  
  
“You two done flirting so we can go?” Lincoln butts in.  
  
“Aw don’t be jealous babe.” Octavia wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
“Gross. Let’s get outta here.” Clarke says, moving to the door, the others following.  
  
  
Outside Octavia and Lincoln are slightly drunk and walking hand in hand, lost in their own world as Clarke and Lexa walk a few steps behind them.  
  
“You were right.” Lexa says after a moment.  
  
“I’m right about a lot of things. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”  
  
Lexa gives her a sidelong glance, as unreadable as ever. “About being a terrible shot.”  
  
“I haven’t exactly had a lot of practice.”  
  
“You must not be a very good crime lord then.”  
  
“ _Au contraire_. I think that would mean I’m a _very_ good crime lord.”  
  
Lexa smirks, a flash of emotion. Clarke takes it as a small victory.  
  
“All it takes is practice. Hit the range often enough and you would become very good I think.”  
  
“Is that an offer?”  
  
The smirk is replaced by the mask again, emotionless, unreadable. A few more steps in silence. Clarke is about to take it back when Lexa gives a slight nod.  
  
“Yes. If you’d like.”

Clarke grins as they enter the parking lot, the street lamps casting pools of dirty light on the cracked pavement. Octavia and Lincoln are already there, leaning against Clarke’s Jeep.  
  
Clarke stops at Lexa's truck. “Give me your phone.”  
  
Lexa frowns, slowly handing it over.

“Why –”  
  
“For my number?”

"Oh. Right."

Octavia's voice calls out across the parking lot as Clarke's fingers dance across the screen.

"Would you two hurry the hell up? Not that I don't love hanging out in dark parking lots at night."

Clarke hands back the phone and Lexa looks down to see 'Mob Boss' followed by Clarke's number. When she looks back up Clarke is already over at her Jeep. Octavia shouts something about practice on Friday and Lincoln waves before they hop in Clarke's car and pull out of the parking lot. Lexa climbs into the driver's seat of her truck and leans back against the seat, exhaling deeply. She could do this. As long as she kept her emotions in check, she could do this and nothing bad would come of it. Anya was right, friends would be good, she could be friends with Clarke. Even if she had to keep telling herself that over and over. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't planning on updating this but what better way to procrastinate my irl writing than with fic? Sorry for any mistakes, this sat in my drafts folder forever and I dusted it off to crank out the rest in one sitting.
> 
> As always, come find me at profoundlypleasantruins.tumblr.com

“Clarke, stop studying and pregame with us.”

Octavia slides a bottle across the table towards Clarke who ignores it, scribbling notes.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one with a test on Monday.”

She says without looking up. Octavia rolls her eyes.

“Monday is like, 2 days away. There’s plenty of time to study before then.”

“Always the voice of reason.”

Clarke replies as Raven sticks her head out from the kitchen where she’s trying to decide between rum and gin. 

“Who the hell drinks gin? What are you 80? Don’t you two have any vodka?”

Octavia gestures to the fridge.

“Check the freezer.”

She turns back to Clarke who is chewing on her pen over a pile of anatomical diagrams.

“You’re still coming to the Ark tonight right?”

Raven emerges from the kitchen, freshly made screwdriver in hand.

“Why wouldn’t Clarke be coming tonight?”

“She’s got a date with Lexa.”

Octavia answers before Clarke can. She shuts her textbook, looking up to give Octavia a dirty look.

“Not a date, O. I told you, I’m not dating some asshole cop.” 

“Who says you have to date her?”

Raven asks and Octavia grins, leaning back in her chair.

“Exactly what I said!”

"I’d be lying if I didn’t say Woods is hot but good luck cracking that brooding, sullen shell. Girl’s got some baggage.”

“She’s a cop, they all have baggage. Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun though right?”

Octavia says over her drink as Clarke gathers up her things and flashes a smile before heading down the hallway to her room.

“Maybe I will.”

 

\--

 

Clarke sees Lexa’s truck already in the parking lot when she pulls in. Lexa is standing outside the front door of the gun range in black jeans and a faded grey t-shirt that at one point might have said ‘Law Enforcement Training Academy’ but now had been reduced to a couple worn letters. A big, bearded man in a baseball cap stands opposite her and as Clarke approaches, he hands something in an envelope to Lexa and walks off.

“Hello Clarke Griffin.”

“Hello officer.”

Clarke casts a questioning glance at the retreating man in the cap but Lexa ignores it, holding the door open.

“Shall we?”

Inside, Lexa steps up to the counter where a variety of pistols are on display in a glass case. Clarke studies them as distant booms filter in from the range.

“Where did you learn to shoot?”

She asks as Lexa catches the attention of an employee. 

“The academy. I was terrible at first.”

A man approaches from behind the counter and raises three fingers in question. Lexa nods and he slides across three boxes of ammunition and a piece of paper.

“Just need a signature and ID.” He says to Clarke as Lexa stuffs the boxes of ammo in her bag and pulls out ear protection.

“Here. Probably going to be louder than you expect.” Clarke takes the ear plugs as the man hands back her ID. 

“Have fun ladies.”

Clarke follows Lexa down the hallway where she pauses before the heavy door at the end. Muted pops echo on the other side as Lexa glances back at Clarke with a questioning look. Clarke flashes a smile and a thumbs up, hoping she looked calmer than she felt as she followed Lexa through the door.

The gunshots are louder than she expected, even with Lexa’s warning. Not that Clarke had actually heard a live gun before so she really didn’t know what to expect. But damn it was loud and Clarke catches herself jumping at the pops of rounds being fired, punctuated by the heavy booms of larger caliber weapons. Gunshots reverberate off the concrete walls, making it difficult to discern the origin of each one. She felt, rather than just heard, each bang; they seemed to hit you deep in the chest, settling there, weighing you down. Clarke was sure there was some sort of metaphor there but her focus is on Lexa who moves to an empty lane, placing two gun cases on the bench.

The two pistols she removes are perfectly polished, gleaming darkly in the fluorescent lights overhead. Lexa slides rounds out of the boxes and begins loading up a magazine. She’s going over the basics again with Clarke as she methodically loads each bullet; how to grip the pistol (“the last thing you want is a Beretta bite, Clarke”), sight picture alignment (“keep the front sight in focus, not the target”), and proper trigger pull (“slow is smooth, smooth is fast”). Lexa’s calm directions put Clarke at ease and she watches as Lexa deftly loads the last magazine without even looking. Every movement is fluid and smooth; no hesitation, no wasted motion as this was something she had no doubt done countless times before, to the point where it was completely muscle memory. And it was strangely captivating. 

“Clarke.”

Clarke’s head snaps up, bringing her gaze to meet Lexa’s.

“Are you even listening?” A smile tugs at the corners of Lexa’s lips.

“Yeah, no, totally. Muzzle always downrange, got it.” Clarke quickly replies between the rapid fire pop-pop-pop-pop of another pistol. 

Lexa slightly shakes her head with a smirk, stepping back so Clarke can step up to the bench. Clarke wipes her sweaty palms against her pant leg before picking up the Glock with one hand and a mag with the other. She slides it into the well of the pistol just as Lexa had showed her before racking back the slide and chambering a round. She brings the pistol up to eye level, arms outstretched, head cocked slightly to the side, lining up the sights. The front sight wavers in and out of the rear, dancing over the silhouette on the target downrange. Clarke’s brow furrows as she wills the gun to be steady in her hands.

“Breathe, Clarke. Your hands are shaking.”

Lexa’s voice calmly advises from behind. Clarke takes a deep breath, realizing she had been holding it and readjusts her grip. She sights back in, keeping a steady grip and slowly pulls the trigger. The muzzle flashes and her hands jump with the recoil. Clarke lowers the pistol, squinting at the paper target. The bullet had passed right above the silhouette’s left shoulder. Jaw set, Clarke brought the pistol back up and fired three more shots. Lexa steps up next to Clarke as she sets the pistol down on the bench. One of the shots had gone high again but the other two, while not close to center, were at least on target.

“I'm all for a little spray and pray but perhaps a little more accuracy next time?” Lexa raises her eyebrows.

“I hit it didn’t I?” Clarke shoots back.

Lexa says nothing, her expression unreadable as she motions for Clarke to pick back up the pistol. A few shots later and she is still hitting high on the target. Clarke grumbles under her breath as she catches the amusement dancing in Lexa’s eyes.

“Alright, what am I doing wrong?”

“Jerking the trigger. Aim in again.” 

Clarke brings the pistol back up. Lexa leans in close, the lane affording little space between them as she studies Clarke’s fingers on the gun. Clarke catches the look on her face as one she probably gave all suspects being detained. Lexa’s gaze is one watching the twitchy fingers of a junkie, waiting for a quick move in the wrong direction, ready to pounce.

“You’re making me nervous.” Clarke admits.

Lexa’s eyes flash from the pistol to Clarke, her face an mixture of curiosity, suspicion and….something else Clarke can’t quite place.

“Sorry.” Lexa murmurs, easing back, her features relaxing. 

“Smooth trigger pull.” She reminds as Clarke lines up for another shot before pulling the trigger. Clarke swears under her breath as it hits high again.

“Here.”

Clarke hands off the weapon before switching spots and Lexa squares up to the target.

“Watch.”

Clarke drags her gaze from Lexa’s eyes, down her neck, to her collarbone peeking out of her t-shirt, along her muscled arms, trying not to linger on the tattoo wrapped around her bicep and finally to her slim fingers gripping the pistol. The movement is not lost on Lexa.

“Take up the slack first in the trigger and pause.”

Her fingers demonstrate the movement, so slight it was almost imperceptible. 

“Then slowly and smoothly, pull it the rest of the way.”

Clarke flinches as the gun goes off, the bullet hitting the small circle at the center of the target.

“Don’t make it look easy or anything.” Clarke frowns. A small smirk plays across Lexa’s face as she hands back the pistol.

“Practice makes perfect, Clarke.”

 

The other shooters slowly filter out of the range as the evening wears on and when the owner sticks his head in to give them a 10 minute warning, Clarke is surprised how much time had passed.

“Shit, I gotta get home.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow as she loads the pistols back into their cases.

“Hot date?”

Clarke scoffs. 

“If Octavia and Raven count as a hot date. We’re going to The Ark for a concert.” 

Lexa slides the gun cases into her duffel. “The Ark? My roommate is playing there tonight.”

“No way, with The Grounders?” 

Lexa nods as they exit the range, the owner giving a wave farewell from behind the counter.

“She’s the guitarist.” 

Clarke tries not to look too hopeful as they step out into the nearly empty parking lot. 

“So does that mean you’ll be there?”

Lexa doesn’t reply, distracted by a dark sedan parked street side at the curb, its lights off with the engine running. She tenses, the hair on the back of her neck rising as a familiar unease settles in her stomach. Clarke stops when she realizes Lexa isn’t paying attention and follows her gaze to the car. The headlights suddenly flash on and it quickly pulls away, heading down the otherwise empty street. 

“Who was that? You know them?”

Lexa blinks, telling herself she’s just being paranoid. 

“Uh no, …I have no idea.” 

She replies quietly, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Her face falls carefully blank as they begin walking again towards their vehicles.

“Where do you live again?” 

Lexa asks casually, both of them knowing Clarke has never mentioned where she lives.

“Skyhaven Apartments. Off 4th street.” 

Clarke answers slowly. Lexa nods, making a mental note as they stop in front of her pick up. 

“And to answer your earlier question, yes. I will be there.” 

She says with a slight smile, erasing the earlier tension of the moment. Clarke brightens.

“Great! I’ll see you there. Hey, thanks for the shooting lesson.” 

She flashes a brilliant smile that leaves Lexa momentarily speechless as Clarke gets into her Jeep. Lexa takes a deep breath to quell the fluttering in her chest as she watches Clarke leave the parking lot and disappear down the street.

“Goddammit.”

She mutters before climbing into her truck.

 

\--

 

The place is already packed when they arrive but Lincoln is waiting for them at the bar, greeting them with drinks in hand.

“Ladies. Drinks.”

“You’re the best.” Clarke replies as he hands her a mojito. 

Lincoln grins. “I know. You guys are good to head up to the VIP area if you want. I gotta make sure this show is good to go.” 

With that he gives Octavia a quick kiss and heads towards the DJ booth. Raven raises her eyebrows, downing half her rum and coke.

“How come your brother never remembers my favorite drink?”

Octavia rolls her eyes, ignoring the question. “Quick round of shots before we head upstairs. Tequila?” 

She catches the bartender as Clarke makes a disgusted face.

“Ugh, tequila? Really?”

“Good way to start the night.” Raven smiles, as the bartender fills three shot glasses and they each grab a slice of lime. 

Lincoln’s voice booms out over the speakers announcing the opening act and the crowd cheers as a man walks on stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder. Clarke scans the crowd, trying to ignore the aftertaste of tequila as she leans in close to Octavia.

“Who is this?”

Octavia shrugs. “Something Miller? Some local who thinks he can play guitar.”

She narrows her eyes as Clarke continues searching the crowd.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Lexa. She said her roommate plays guitar for the Grounders.”

Octavia’s face splits into a wide grin but Raven speaks up before she can say anything.

“Wait you know the guitarist? Get us back stage so we can meet her Clarke!”

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t know her, Lexa does. C’mon let’s head up.”

 

They filter up to the VIP balcony where only a few other people lounge around as Miller continues playing below. Clarke immediately spots Lexa in the corner of the balcony leaning against the railing, beer in one hand. She’s wearing the same black jeans but she’s traded the worn academy shirt in for a slim, white v-neck and a leather jacket. The lack of lighting only darkens her heavy eyeliner, giving her a sinister look, more criminal than cop. Octavia strides over to her teammate, giving her a playful nudge.

“So you do get out and have fun once in a while!” She exclaims, only earning an unimpressed look from Lexa. 

“Well, I’ll withhold judgement on the ‘having fun’ part.” Octavia mutters into her drink as Clarke slides up next to them at the railing with a grin.

“Long time no see.” 

“Indeed.” Lexa replies, her face softening before Raven butts in.

“Yo, Clarke says you know the Grounders’ guitarist? Think you could introduce us?”

“Really Raven?” Octavia says with a noise of disgust. “Go fangirl somewhere else.” 

“Shut up O, just cause I have good taste in music –”

“What, like I don’t have good taste in music?”

“You don’t have good –”

“Hey! Some people are here to listen to the show.” 

Clarke interrupts, as a few strangers shoot them angry looks. Raven responds with an eye roll, downing the rest of her drink. 

“How was your date at the gun range?” Octavia asks, changing the subject.

Lexa’s eyes snap towards Octavia, then Clarke, and back to Octavia, brow furrowed. 

"Date?"

“Ignore her.” Clarke sighs. 

Lexa is unreadable, her carefully crafted mask falling into place as she leans back on the railing. The crowd on the lower level applauds as Miller ends his set and exits the stage. Lincoln’s voice booms out over the speakers as he announces The Grounders beginning shortly. Raven takes this as a cue to begin raving about how innovative their songs are and how skilled the members were and the intricacies of this chorus and the brilliance of these lyrics, earning irritated eye rolls from the rest of them. After a few moments Octavia interrupts her. 

“Oh my god Raven we get it, ok? You’re their number one fucking fan now please shut up.”

Before Raven can give a snappy retort, the lights dim and the crowd begins cheering as the band emerges on stage. The vocalist gives an animalistic growl into the microphone and the guitar wails into the first notes of a song. Heavy metal wasn’t exactly Clarke’s forte and her exposure to The Grounders was only when Raven had control of the iPod but she had to admit they had talent and damned if it wasn’t easy to get caught up in the energy of the show. The lower level quickly turned into a proper mosh pit and holy shit, Clarke was glad she was not down in that violent mess. The alcohol lowers inhibitions and Clarke finds herself laughing and head banging along with Raven and Octavia as the band dives into their set and even Lexa can’t help but smile as they make fools of themselves. They play their set for the next hour or so before bowing off stage to wild cheers and roars. Clarke decides she needs another drink before Raven can launch into her analysis on why that was the greatest show ever and she heads back towards the bar.

 

“Rum and coke please, double shot.” The bartender acknowledges with a nod as someone slides up next to her at the bar.

“Make it two. You must be Clarke.”

Clarke looks over at the woman next to her, recognizing her from on stage.

“You’re the guitarist.”

“Also known as Anya.” She replies dryly as the bartender places the drinks in front of them. 

“Right. Anya. Nice to meet you.” Clarke slides a bill across the bar only to have the bartender wave her off. Anya doesn’t respond, throwing back the rum and coke instead. Clarke’s brow furrows slightly.

“Um, how do you know my name?”

Anya ignores the question, her eyes focusing somewhere behind Clarke, who is distracted by her phone vibrating. She pulls it out of her pocket to see a new text from Octavia.

 **O. (00:12):** heads up, Linc says he seen Finn here

Clarke groans, tilting her head back in frustration. Just what she needed tonight.

“Everything ok?”

A familiar voice asks and Clarke turns to see Lexa. She clears her throat.

“Yeah no, everything’s fine.”

She quickly lies, shoving her phone back into her pocket and taking a drink. Lexa leans an elbow on the bar, leveling her gaze at Clarke, studying her for a moment before speaking.

“Do not lie to me Clarke.”

Clarke smiles into her drink. Of course Lexa could tell, she dealt with liars on a daily basis, she had been trained to see through lies and Clarke wasn’t exactly the best liar when intoxicated. She should have known better.

“It’s just –”

“Clarke!”

Raven emerges from the crowd, making her way over to them.

“Did O text you? Finn’s here somewhere, if you want we can bounce –”

“Who’s Finn?”

Anya interrupts, another cocktail miraculously in hand. Raven gives her an irritated look until recognition dawns on her.

“Holy shit, Anya. From the Grounders.”

“Holy shit, yeah.” Anya echoes with an eye roll.

“Are you getting all these drinks for free?” Clarke drunkenly asks, focused on the drink in her hand. Again Anya ignores her, repeating her question.

“Who is Finn?”

Raven waves her hand dismissively.

“Clarke’s ex. Listen, I’m a huge fan of yours –”

Anya holds a finger up to Raven’s lips.

“Don’t talk.”

Raven goes slack jawed in disbelief, speechless for a second before recovering.

“Hold up, you think just cause you’re the baddest bitch here you can tell me what to do?”

“Yes.” 

Anya replies matter-of-factly as Raven’s jaw clenches in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Clarke interjects herself into the conversation before Raven can respond.

“Is there like an area backstage we can hang out for a bit or something?”

Anya’s eyes dart to Lexa and then back to Clarke before answering. 

“There's a green room.”

Lexa gives a slight nod to Clarke to follow her before stepping away from the bar and towards the tightly packed crowd of bodies on the dance floor moving to the thumping music Lincoln was pumping out. Clarke follows, glancing back at Raven who is earnestly trying to strike up another conversation with Anya who looks like she would rather chew on broken glass. Clarke’s vision sways slightly back and forth as colored lights strobe around the dance floor, the alcohol making it a bit more difficult to navigate the sea of people. She tries to stay focused on the back of Lexa’s leather jacket but the crush of bodies around her quickly separates them. Someone calls her name and Clarke glances around but the lack of lighting makes everyone faceless and it’s impossible to spot Lexa. She hears her name again just off to her right and she peers out over the top of the dancing audience as best she can to see Finn shouting her name over the bass heavy music and making his way toward her. Cursing, Clarke jostles against the bodies around her who seem to be doing their damnedest to keep her in place. Suddenly a hand grips hers, pulling her through the crowd. Clarke eyes follow the arm up to see Lexa leading her through the wall of people and towards the stage. They easily lose Finn in the crowd as people seem to naturally make way for Lexa. Reaching the stage, they make their way up the stairs and into a side door where the small green room is.

Lexa releases her hand to close the door behind them and Clarke tries not to think about the suddenly empty space in her palm. The tiny green room (little more than a closet really) is littered in beer bottles and paraphernalia and allows little room to maneuver without bumping into a piece of gear or equipment against the walls. The naked bulb above is buzzing obnoxiously, illuminating someone passed out on a stained, broken couch. She takes a deep breath, the smell of sweat and liquor heavy in the air. As Lexa brushes past she catches the scent of grass, dirt and….something else, something mechanical. It takes Clarke a second to register the smell of gunpowder from the range earlier. Lexa quickly crosses the room with a dangerous look to grip the shoulder of the figure sprawled out on the couch. Clarke steps forward to get a closer look at his face. 

“Is that…the bassist?”

Lexa nods, giving him a shake, which only elicits a groan. 

“Artigas.” She growls his name through gritted teeth. 

Clarke raises her eyebrows at the man who barely looked old enough to drink, her eyes flitting over the beer cans and rolling papers on the small table.

“Is he ok?”

Lexa responds by grabbing one the cans of beer and dumping the remainder of it on his face. His eyes shoot open as he sputters incoherently. Lexa hauls him to his feet as if he weighed nothing, a murderous glint in her eye.

“What is wrong with you? Was I not clear enough before?”

“Lexa, I’m not – I swear I –”

“Think real hard about what you are going to say next.”

Her voice is venomous and he swallows hard, wild-eyed, his mouth opening and closing before finally finding the words.

“I didn’t – one of the girls, I would never – ”

“Who? What girl?”

“I – I don’t know, I don’t remember.” 

He rubs his head as if to emphasize his point and Lexa releases him with a shove. Clarke glances from Artigas to Lexa, confused. 

“Uh, is everything…”

The door suddenly swings open and Anya is there, looking from the cowering Artigas to Lexa to Clarke and back to Artigas before speaking.

“You, up. Now.”

He practically leaps over the table to follow her out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them. Clarke struggles to find the words to address what just happened, the alcohol muddling her thought process.

“Is he even old enough to drink? I mean besides the…” She gestures to the table. “Not that it’s my business or anything.”

She trails off uncertainly, the alcohol slightly slurring her words and her mind concocting wild fantasies on what dealings the band might be involved in. Lexa’s hard gaze falls onto her and she looks like she’s about to manhandle Clarke the same way she did Artigas. (Not that Clarke would entirely be opposed to Lexa putting her hands on her) but then Lexa breaks the tension with a smirk, her hard expression falling away.

“Relax Clarke, nothing is going to happen.” 

Lexa exhales deeply and sinks down into the couch, stretching her arms out over the back and leaning her head back. 

“Artigas is a fool, but a harmless one.”

She suddenly looked very tired, the mask had fallen away and Clarke was acutely aware of how vulnerable she seemed. She picks up an unopened beer off the table and plops down on the couch next to Lexa.

“You keep some questionable company for an officer of the law.”

Lexa gives her a sidelong look, her eyes resting on Clarke’s golden hair fanned out on the back of the couch and before she can stop herself, she’s idly toying with the ends of it.

“You’re right. A mob boss is probably the last person I should be seen with.”

Clarke smiles, cracking open the can of beer and taking a drink. Lexa quirks an eyebrow.

“Another beer? You are already drunk.”

Clarke raises her drink.

“Your observation skills are exceptional.”

Lexa watches her, trying not to focus on the can being pressed to Clarke’s lips. 

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind Clarke.” 

Clarke gives a low laugh, propping her feet up on the table and slouching down in the couch to fit against Lexa’s side. Clarke catches the scent again of grass and dirt tinged with gunpowder and it’s almost as heady as the alcohol, making Clarke think of soccer fields and pistol grips.

“I’m way too drunk to be discussing the merits of a strong mind.”

She offers the beer to Lexa who shakes her head.

“I’m driving.” She narrows her eyes at Clarke. “Please don’t tell me you are.”

“Bellamy’s supposed to pick us up.” 

Clarke thinks for a minute. 

“Did you come here with Anya?”

Lexa shakes her head as the walls around them vibrate with muted dance music. 

“I came alone. I only come here when they have a gig.”

Clarke downs the rest of her drink and tosses the can with the others on the floor.

"So are...you and Anya like, a thing?”

Lexa surprises her by laughing.

“Anya? No, we were foster kids together.”

Clarke’s pocket vibrates and she pulls out her phone to see a text from Octavia.

 **O. (01:37)** where r u  
**Clarke (01:37)** Hiding.  
**O. (01:38)** w lexa? seal the deal already

Clarke shoves the phone back into her pocket, hoping Lexa doesn’t notice the blush creeping into her cheeks. (She doesn’t, Clarke’s cheeks are already flushed from the booze.)

Lexa isn’t drunk but it’s easy to feel intoxicated with Clarke so close and she allows herself to be bold. She lets her fingers stray, working their way up the strands of Clarke’s hair, brushing the back of her neck and running up to lightly massage at her scalp.

Clarke’s eyelids are heavy and Lexa’s fingers have their desired effect as a faint hum escapes her throat.

“Clarke...”

Lexa mutters Clarke’s name, half to herself. A small voice in the back of Lexa’s head is warning her, telling her stop; to pull away and put back up the walls Clarke has so easily bypassed. _Remember what happened the last time you let someone get close,_ it whispers to her, _attachment is a burden, feelings are a weakness._

“Clarke…”

She whispers again as if begging Clarke to break the connection, to stop her. It’s too easy, it shouldn’t be this easy, shouldn't be this natural. Clarke mumbles something and Lexa leans in close – 

Then the damn door is swinging open and Octavia stumbles in as Lexa’s hand drops and she quickly leans away from Clarke.

“Clarke!” She trips and catches herself on an amp as Clarke sighs.

“Jesus, O. You are fucking sloshed.”

“Bell- _hic_ -amy’s here. Soooo unless you two are….” She waves her hand drunkenly between the two of them as Raven sticks her head in the doorway.

“There you are. Holy shit, do not tell me you guys drank all this beer.”

“Ugh just thinking about beer makes me wanna puke.” Octavia slurs. 

“You already did puke jackass. Twice. You’re lucky your boyfriend works here.”

Octavia sways dangerously, nearly falling over before Raven catches her. She steers the drunken Octavia back towards the door, flashing a smile at Clarke. 

“Bell’s waiting in the parking lot but if your plans for the rest of the night have changed…”

She gives a wink before leaving the room with Octavia. Clarke groans inwardly as Lexa stands, her neutral expression back in place. She offers a hand and Clarke takes it, pulling herself up from the couch. The rush of alcohol throws her balance off and she wavers uncertainly, the ground threatening to make a painful introduction. Lexa offers her arm and Clarke doesn’t release it as they exit the green room and stage. The floor is emptying of people as the lights are turned on and the music lowered.

“Your friends certainly are…brazen.”

Lexa comments as they spot Octavia and Raven already at the back bar, harassing Anya again, who is nursing another drink.

“They’re annoying as fuck is what they are. You’ll have to apologize to Anya on behalf of them for me.”

“Anya is enjoying their company actually I think.”

Clarke gives her an incredulous look as Anya scowls over her drink at the other two girls.

“You can’t be serious. Are we looking at the same Anya?”

“Trust me, she always looks like that.” 

Lexa replies as the bartender begins ushering them all out. In the parking lot Octavia launches into an alcohol infused rendition of Taylor Swift songs as Raven keeps her from stumbling out in front of a passing taxi. 

“You know it’s a good night when it ends with terrible pop songs in the parking lot at 2 am.”

Anya says from behind Lexa, giving a small smile. Bellamy calls out, waving them over to his car across the parking lot which is a veritable maze of headlights, honking taxis, and drunken patrons. Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand pulling her along behind Raven and Octavia who is maneuvering between vehicles seemingly at random and Lexa idly wonders why they are following the drunkest person but she couldn’t careless because her hand is in Clarke’s and if Octavia wants to lead them in circles around the parking lot Lexa would be perfectly fine with it. She almost runs into Clarke when she stops abruptly next to a van and gestures towards someone familiar doubled over a few cars down, puking.

“Hey isn’t that…”

“Artigas.”

Suddenly a horn blares followed by loud cursing and they round the back of the van to see Octavia arguing with someone in the middle of the road as a honking car is trying to drive around them. Raven is attempting to drag her away but Octavia is too busy shouting something about Taylor Swift being the reigning pop queen. Her equally drunk opponent is vehemently denying it as the driver of the car begins to get out.

“Really?”

Lexa mutters in disbelief as Clarke shakes her head with a laugh, going to help Raven pull them apart when the driver steps into the headlights and she immediately recognizes Finn. 

“Oh for fucks sake.”

She curses, quickly darting back into the shadow of the van and yanking Lexa back with her. The sudden movement catches Finn’s eye who glances over towards them. 

“What –” 

“Shh, it’s Finn.”

Clarke whispers, grabbing Lexa by the front of her jacket and roughly positioning her in front of Clarke to block Finn’s view.

“Are you seriously using me as a shield?”

“Please be quiet.”

Clarke peers over Lexa’s shoulder at Finn who is distracted by Octavia’s loud ranting. She silently thanks the Ark for being too cheap to fix the busted lamps in the parking lot, keeping the area fairly dark and damn if Lexa doesn’t look good in the nighttime, all dark shadowed and leather clad. She raises a brow at Clarke, who has yet to release her jacket.

“Clarke, I doubt he – ”

“Please shut up before he hears you.”

Finn glances back over, squinting into the darkness. A smirk spreads across Lexa’s features as she can’t help but antagonize the poor blonde.

“He is probably looking at us because standing around a van that isn’t ours is a bit suspect.”

“Lexa please.”

“Shall I go talk to him? If he is looking to start something…”

“I swear to god – ”

“I mean I did kick Octavia’s ass for you on that zombie shootout game.”

“You are infuriating.”

Clarke hisses as Finn steps towards them.

“I could arrest him, I have handcuffs –”

Clarke makes a frustrated sound and pulls Lexa in close, silencing her mouth with her own. Lexa tenses, her brain slow to process the fact that Clarke Griffin is kissing her. Clarke is drunk and it’s sloppy, but oh god Clarke is kissing her. The way Clarke's lips seem to fit perfectly against Lexa’s, lips tasting of cheap alcohol, sends her mind into overload and when Clarke pushes her hips into hers, Lexa can barely remember her name. 

“Ow—ow! Get it Clarke!” Octavia’s loud catcall breaks the moment and Lexa focuses on breathing again as Clarke pulls away, finally releasing Lexa’s jacket. Raven gives an obscene gesture to Finn who retreats back into his car, slamming his door with a scowl and driving off.

“Sorry, that was…I shouldn’t have.”

Clarke looks away, running her fingers through her hair.

“It’s fine.”

Lexa replies awkwardly, almost laughing at the understatement; kissing Clarke was more than just fine and bringing her home would be even more than just fine but Lexa hesitates and Clarke speaks before she can.

“I better go.”

She says quietly, looking towards Bellamy’s car where Octavia is once again puking while Bellamy and Raven are too caught up in one another to notice. Lexa gives a slight nod, keeping the neutral mask ever in place. 

“Text me when you are home safe?”

Clarke smiles, nodding.

“Until next time officer.”

Lexa shoves her hands into her pockets, watching Clarke go to Octavia and cursing herself for ever letting Clarke Griffin get this close to her.

\--

_Lexa is dragged into the empty warehouse and dumped unceremoniously onto the concrete floor. Unsteadily rising to her feet, she cracks open a swollen eye to see Atohl standing there, Costia kneeling in front of him. He has a handful of her hair in one hand and a knife in the other. Bruises are blossoming on her face, her beautiful face, that Lexa had carefully caressed countless times before. The sight of Costia, bloody, lips trembling, lips that Lexa had traced with her own, punches a hole through her heart greater than any of the wounds they had given her. Ignoring her own injuries, Lexa struggles forward but the man gripping her arm twists it back painfully, popping her shoulder out of the socket. Lexa grimaces as the movement reopens the knife wounds on her side._

_“This is what happens–” Atohl snarls through clenched teeth, pressing his blade to Costia’s throat as he yanks her head back._

_“No, please –” Lexa strains against the arms holding her and is rewarded with a backhanded blow, rattling teeth and drawing blood. She swings her good arm at the man holding her, slamming her fist into his jaw. But then something round and heavy connects soundly with her face and Lexa feels a sharp crack in her nose and flashes of light fill her vision. Dazed, she struggles to stay on her feet, upheld only by the man pinning her arms, as the world tilts around her._

_Atohl continues. “This is what happens when you fuck with the Ice cartel!” And with that he drags the knife across Costia’s throat in a red line. An animalistic cry escapes Lexa’s throat and she lunges forward but another blow to the back of the head sends her reeling to the floor instead. Blood erupts in an arc from Costia’s throat, running down her skin, down to the floor, spreading, rushing towards Lexa, filling the room, threatening to drown her in it._

A dog barks in the distance, pulling Lexa from sleep. Her eyes open to a dark, quiet room. She doesn’t leap out of bed like she used, doesn’t fumble in the dark for a weapon. Instead she lays there, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. The wild paranoia that used to grip her has given way to a dull emptiness and she isn’t sure which one is worse. Before she would have given anything to take away the pain and anger, anything to make her forget the ache in her chest that was so deep it felt like organ damage. But now the nightmares are so familiar she forgets what it was like to sleep soundly through the night. She swings her legs over the bed, glancing at the clock. 

4:31 am. 

She takes a deep breath, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She knows better than to try and fall back asleep. Instead she makes her way to the kitchen in the dark, filling a glass with water. Movement on the balcony catches her eye and she tenses, frozen. The orange glow of a cigarette flares in the darkness and Lexa resumes breathing as she recognizes Anya’s silhouette. Neither of them speak as Lexa slides open the door and steps out onto the balcony, taking a place in the chair next to Anya. She picks up the lighter and removes a cigarette from the pack on the small table, lighting it. 

A dog barks in the distance.

Lexa exhales a cloud of smoke, the cool night air refreshing on her damp skin. The street below them is empty, the buildings around them dark except for one window across the way illuminated by the muted glow of a tv. Everything is so still, so quiet, Lexa almost feels like it isn’t real, like she’s caught in a dream. They sit for a few moments in silence, the air hazy around them.

“Disgusting habit.” Anya murmurs, breaking the spell and flicking away ash.

“Expensive habit.” Lexa replies, propping her bare feet up on the rail.

Anya grinds her cigarette butt into the ashtray on the table, following Lexa’s gaze to the window across the street.

“Bet they’re watching porn.” 

Lexa smirks but says nothing, extinguishing her own cigarette and another minute of silence passes before Anya speaks again.

“I’m glad you came to the show.”

Lexa nods, hearing the words behind it. 

“So, Clarke...”

“Don’t.” Lexa warns coolly.

“I was only gonna ask if she’s single. Maybe I’m interested.”

“Oh? The gorgeous Clarke Griffin is enough to make you abandon your asexual ways?” Lexa scoffs.

Anya gives a sly smile.

“Gorgeous eh? We can at least agree on that then.”

Lexa keeps her expression neutral, avoiding Anya’s gaze by staring determinedly at the window across the street. 

A dog barks in the distance.

"You working today?"

Lexa nods absent-mindedly and Anya doesn't have to guess to know who she's thinking about. Anya stands, stretching.

"I'll put coffee on."

She opens the sliding door, pausing before stepping back inside.

"That girl from the club, the one Artigas mentioned."

Lexa stiffens, knowing where this was going but afraid to hear it.

"I asked Gus about her. She runs in Atohl's circles. He said there's been movement on the southside, turf wars. Be careful out there."

Lexa's jaw clenches, crushing the cigarette butt between her fingers as Anya steps back inside the apartment. She casts an eye over the street below, looking for anyone, anything, but it's still empty. The hazy early morning air suddenly seems suffocating and oppressive. After a minute Lexa steps back inside, making a mental note to look into it at the department.


End file.
